I am an optimist. Eternally and forever the optimist. I’m always hoping to find the best in people. With my past experience I often tend to remove myself from experiences where I might be disappointed. I keep my distance. I protect myself from anything that might cause despair. When I encounter new people my motto is Mum is the Word. I don’t wag my tongue too much and keep myself to generic topics. It’s just easier if things go south to know that any new person in my life who hasn’t passed the gauntlet won’t leave with serious information about the Mama.
Often times being guarded can be a detriment, but I have learned that it’s the best way to weed out the losers. It is not very often that I meet someone and feel connected. When I do, I find myself overwhelmed. Like I did here. Realizing that you’ve lost yourself in the mundane is tragic. Understanding that relationships have been surface for sometime is saddening. In the last month or so I’ve met two people who opened my mind and woke up something in my soul that was just collecting dust. But I met one person who from the first moment we sat down to drink beers opened up the flood gates. It’s been almost two weeks since we hung out the first time and every time we hang out everything is calm. The calmness is something I don’t usually feel. Truly it is like the world stops and I’m just in those moments. And while it’s not the first time I’ve felt this calm it certainly feels like something I deserve.
Every man I’ve dated over the last year has fallen so short from meeting that need. The need to just be whatever I am and not expect anything from me other than that. I feel like me around this person.But is this just me being the eternal optimist? Am I looking for something to pin my hopes on?
I’m going to have to say, nope. I’ve been doing this cat and mouse dating routine for so long, and never before have I told the full version of the story of my life in 12-hours. And I’m talking about the uncensored, scary details and make men-folk run away version. The version of my life that I imagine a normie would give speechless nods and grins in the hopes that I would just shut-the-fuck-up. I’ve only ever told most of that version to three people in my life…Mr. C, Rachel and the Cowboy (although now he’s part of the updated version). The fact of the matter is when dating, people only want the PG version of who you really are and in order to not live in a Road Runner bit we give them just what they want…the bits and pieces of the surface. The floating shiny bits, as Kali calls them. I have met someone who I spared the grotesque opera that is my surface persona and went straight for the sunshine that is my spotted past and he hasn’t runaway screaming. Yet. In fact I’ve not talked this much to one person in my entire dating life. I mean maybe high school. But that was hella way before texting took over our lives. And by college there wasn’t much need for talking. I digress. He knows the good stuff and by good stuff I mean dirt.
This is all such a huge departure from what I’m used to experiencing in the dating world. It’s a little well…nice. It’s nice to put all my cards on the table and feel accepted for who I am seriously.
Optimism leads my daily cycles. I’m certain that even though I am yet again unemployed that I will survive this one. I’m certain that meeting this person when I did is how it was meant to be. I’m certain that even now as I type this amazing things are coming.
This weekend we have plans to hang out again…and I’m hoping that I can come up with a nickname for him that is appropriate for the next post…